


A Long Road Home

by ImOutOfMyVulcanMind (LoopyLu94)



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Death, Famine - Freeform, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-03-30 00:18:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13938549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoopyLu94/pseuds/ImOutOfMyVulcanMind
Summary: Two men from two completely different worlds meet in the aftermath of a great famine. Can they work together to save the ones they love and the remaining human race?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Part 1 of the story written for thevaleofanduin's Star Trek Apocalypse AU Exchange on Tumblr

Jim’s stomach was grumbling at him angrily, but he ignored it. Of course he ignored it. He’d spent his entire life hungry, and he’d spent his entire life ignoring it. His stomach did seem to be protesting more than normal today though, so Jim counted back to the last time he’d eaten. A week he figured it to be. A good three days longer than usual. His mind wandered to the stash of canned soups he had, some even containing meat. A much coveted and precious treat these days. It was tempting, but Jim shook himself out of the idea. There were people, families who needed it more. He’d grab a can of beans when he got back to his building he decided. **  
**

He was just starting to head home when he heard the first shout and gunshot not far from him. Immediately flattening himself to the nearest wall and drawing his gun out, Jim stayed frozen where he was, attempting to keep his breathing as quiet as possible while he listened. If someone was being chased by the soldiers, they didn’t stand much of a chance; soldiers were too well trained and equipped to be taken head-on. Whoever it was would likely be dead soon; all Jim should do is keep out of the way until it was safe again, he told himself.

Then there was another shout, and though Jim couldn’t make out the exact words, it sounded much like a plea, and Jim couldn’t stand it. The sounds were getting closer to him, and as he rounded a corner to peer down an alley, he saw the sources of the noise. Two soldiers had cornered another man near a wall. The man was on his knees, hands in the air, and babbling something incoherently, while the soldiers aimed their guns at his head. Jim took a breath, steadying himself, then pushed himself forward. “Hey, shitheads!” He yelled, waiting for the soldiers to whirl around before firing two rounds in quick succession, aiming at the one weak spot near their necks, and watching as both soldiers crumpled to the ground.

The man on the floor was watching him with wide eyes, but Jim ignored him in favor of kneeling down and checking the pulses of the soldiers. Both dead. Tucking his gun into the back of his jeans, he then busied himself with gathering up the fallen weapons and ammo, then searched the bodies for their packs of dried food.

“You saved me, thank you,” the stranger spoke behind him, giving away a southern accent, that somehow set Jim on edge. “What are you doing? Shouldn’t we get out-”

“Stop talking.” Jim spun around, aiming one of the new guns at the man.

The man immediately shot his hands into the air, taking a step back only to hit against the alley wall. “What?”

“I said stop talking.” Jim adjusted his stance as he closed in on the stranger. “Everyone knows that soldiers carry food with them. And everyone knows that if you take one down, you scavenge every possible thing you can.” Narrowing his eyes, Jim studied the other man closely for the first time. His clothes were scruffy, but nowhere near as worn as Jim’s, and considerably more expensive by the looks of it. He was nowhere near as thin as most of the people on the street usually were either. The final clue he saw was the pale strip around the other’s wrist from where his status bracelet used to be. “You’re an Eater.”

The man blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You’re an Eater. One of those rich bastards from down South who get to stuff their faces every day. Or are you going to tell me that you haven’t been wearing a status bracelet?”

The man looked at his pale wrist, confirming everything. “I…you call us eaters?”

“We call you a lot of things, Eaters isn’t the worst.” Jim tightened his finger on the trigger. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t shoot you right here.”

Jim watched as the Eater swallowed. “I need help. Please. I know you hate me, and you have every right to do so, but please.”

Jim chewed his lip as he contemplated his choice. A part of him said to just shoot. The rich had never given a damn about those on the poor end since the Famine began. They’d sat in their big houses, eating happily, with no cares in the world as the rest of the population either starved or were shot by the soldiers. But Jim was also curious. Why was he out here with no bracelet to show his status? Something was wrong. He glanced up at the sky. The sun was starting to set. It’d be dark soon, and he had to get back inside.

Jim looked back at the man, who was staring at him, breathing heavily as he waited. Jim sighed; his mother had always told him that his curiosity would get him killed. “Tear two strips from your shirt, and wrap one around your eyes.”

The man frowned. “Why?”

“Because I want to talk to you more, but we can’t do it out here, and there’s no way I’m showing you where I live,” Jim snapped.

“Why not talk out here? The guards don’t patrol at night,” The Eater asked, lowering his hands slowly.

“For someone who doesn’t want me to shoot you, you ask a lot of questions,” Jim muttered. “The soldiers don’t come out at night because even they aren’t stupid enough to face the gangs.”

“The gangs?”

“The gangs. The groups of people who patrol at night, searching for food to eat. And they aren’t picky.” It was kind of satisfying watching all color drain from the other man’s face as the implication of his words hit home. “But if you’d rather, I can leave you here tonight and come back for a chat in the morning if you’re still around.”

“No. Don’t.” The man grabbed hold of the expensive, but thin, material of his shirt, and tore one strip, before tearing a second. He tied one behind his eyes, then held the other out towards Jim.

As he stepped forward, Jim took it. “Turn around and hands behind your back.” He waited for the Eater to comply, before wrapping the second strip around his wrists tightly. It was far from the best restraints, but they were only temporary, and Jim was sure that he could take the man down if he tried to escape. Jim patted the other down quickly but found no sign of a weapon, or of a wire, so nodded to himself. He pressed the barrel of one of his weapons against the man’s back and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Walk,” he ordered.

They were a fair distance away from Jim’s building, and the journey was made even longer with the Eater slowing him down and stumbling every other step, but eventually, they made it, and Jim bolted the door shut behind him. The entranceway they were in was nondescript enough and dark enough that Jim thought it safe to remove the blindfold. “Down this corridor, and to the left, Eater. Go.”

“I have a name, you know. Leonard McCoy.”

Jim said nothing, just prodded the gun against McCoy’s back, forcing him to walk forward. Jim was mostly certain that this building used to be a factory, most of it towards the front was all metal and machines long rusted, but he could only guess at what its function was for. They were on the outskirts of the city, near the water’s edge, so Jim had always assumed fish. Before they all died. Jim mostly used the back of the factory, there were rooms that were connected to heat generators, and in the room he used as living quarters, there was even space for him to make a fire so he could heat some of the food he collected. It was spartan, but Jim felt a certain pride for it. He even had a proper bed. Sort of. A mattress he found, and some blankets, but it was better than a lot had.

It was this area that he stopped McCoy in the middle of and turned on some lights. It was windowless, so he at least had no worry of drawing attention. “Strip.”

McCoy blinked. “Sorry?”

“Strip. I’m not risking your clothes being bugged.” Jim elaborated, tugging the cloth around McCoy’s wrists free.

McCoy hesitated another moment, but then compiled, removing the rest of his clothes and dumping them in a pile. Jim noted how he shivered in the cool air. “There are clothes in the corner over there. Nothing up to your standard, but something should fit,” he said, gathering up the discarded items, and tossing them into the firepit. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about using up his regular burning supply tonight. He lit the clothes, watching as they burned, then grabbed McCoy’s shoes, using a knife to slice them open to ensure nothing had been hidden inside them.

“Nice to see you aren’t paranoid,” McCoy muttered behind him.

Jim turned, seeing that McCoy had changed into some of Jim’s spare clothes. They were a little snug on him, but not too bad. “When everyone you meet wants to kill you, you learn to be cautious.”

McCoy huffed, “Speaking of that, why were those guards trying to kill me? They’re only meant to keep the peace.”

“God, you are sheltered. The soldier’s way of keeping the peace is to kill any of us they come across. No bracelet means death,” Jim laughed harshly, going to stand on one side of the table he’d set up. He motioned to the chair on the other side. “Sit, Eater. I have questions.”

“You can stop calling me that. I’m not one anymore, so I’ll be skin and bones soon enough,” McCoy grumbled as he flopped down in the chair.

“Maybe I’ll just call you ‘Bones’ then.” Jim sat too, resting his gun out on the table, but kept his grip on it firm. “So what’s your deal?”

“Right,” McCoy nodded, falling silent for a few moments as he gathered his thoughts. “Leonard McCoy as I said. I’m a Doctor, born and raised in Georgia, which I’m assuming you’ve guessed.”

Jim raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t many Eaters born outside of there. What are you doing all the way over in San Francisco though?”

“I was heading home from a medical conference in London. We made a stop in Nevada, the airport there is still functioning, to change planes. We were staying overnight, but a colleague of mine, a friend, he came to me in the dead of night and told me that my wife had had a divorce pushed through in my absence. And while I hold…held power, my wife’s family had more so I would be cast out. Either way I faced exile, but if I returned to Georgia, I’d face both exile and the humiliation of being publically cast out.”

Jim whistled lowly, “Man, your society is more fucked up than ours.”

McCoy snorted, “Tell me about it. At any moment all that you have hangs on a thread; probably not the glamour and happiness you’ve imagined it to be.”

“Nah. I always pictured it to be a place full of ugly people, with ugly souls, pretending to like each other.”

“You’re pretty right about that.”

Jim let silence fall for a few moments before pressing on, “So this friend of yours, he told you to run?”

“Yeah. He helped me get my bracelet off, and out of the area.”

“Ever consider that maybe he was tricking you? That it was all a lie, and that he was sending you out to die?” Jim questioned.

“No! Phil is a good man, a good friend, he just wanted to help.”

“How would he know though? How would he know what was going on if you were both in London?”

“His…his husband, Chris, is one of the Governor’s assistants-”

“A henchman.”

“An assistant, and another good man, he picked up on the talk.”

Jim hummed, “You keep saying these men are good, but they happily sit inside Kodos’ inner circle, eating his freshly grown crops and reared farm animals,” he spat.

McCoy’s eyes widened. “You know about that?”

“Of course we do, we’re starved not stupid,” Jim snarled. “We found out a long time ago. But there’s too few of us, and none strong enough to lead a revolt. It’s every man for himself, but I can guarantee that if any of us were on the inside, so far up Kodos’ ass that we could taste his breakfast, we’d do something.”

“You assume it’s that easy? To do something like that, to go against the Governor is something no one man could do. It would take planning, coordination, discussing treason. In a place where just the whisper of it to the wrong person would get you killed! No one dares breathe a word because we live in fear just as much as you do!”

“Only you don’t starve! You don’t have to scurry away like sewer rats if you even hear a soldier nearby!” Jim shouted, slamming his fist on the table. “You don’t have to watch loved ones die because all the medication is either gone or being sold at prices no one can afford, so you put yourself in debt to the seller, agree to do whatever it is they want! Do not try to make out we’re the same because we aren’t! You’re an Eater!”

“Stop calling me that! That’s not who I am! Not anymore!!” McCoy groaned as he pressed his face into his hands. “Look, I don’t expect you to change your mind about me. I don’t expect you to save me, and I’m not going to ask you for help or supplies or anything. All I ask is that you let me go.”

Jim took a breath, forcing himself to calm down. If McCoy was so easily cast out, it meant he’d already been in one of the lower circles in the Eater’s hierarchy. It didn’t absolve him of everything, but he couldn’t be blamed for everything either. And he was only a few years older than Jim. Hadn’t even been born when this shitshow started. “If I let you free, where will you go?”

“Back to Georgia.”

For the first time that night, it was Jim’s turn to be utterly confused. “Are you insane? Avoiding Georgia was the reason you left when you did, and besides, you’d never get across the border now. It’s suicide.”

“I have to try,” McCoy sighed, “I have family in Georgia still, my mother and my daughter. I was a fool, and I didn’t realize it until it was too late, but I messed up by not going back. My wife wanted to remarry, might have already for all I know, but it means cutting all connections with your previous marriages family.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that they may have been cast out too.”

Jim shook his head in disbelief, “Your wife wouldn’t cast out her own child.”

“You don’t know Jocelyn. She’d do anything for more power.”

“So this has definitely happened?”

“No, not definitely. Ma isn’t powerful, but she has protection which keeps her safe, and could possibly keep Joanna, my daughter, safe too. It depends on how much Jocelyn wants them gone, she could do it if she wanted.”

“Fuck.” Jim ran a hand through his too long hair, leaning back in his seat. “So what’s your plan exactly?”

“Get to Georgia. Get in. And either find them or maybe find someone who can tell me where they were heading.”

Jim studied McCoy closely as he thought, “You’re dead, man. There’s no way. I’m going to guess that you haven’t eaten since you left?” McCoy shook his head. “So that’s two weeks at most you have before you starve to death seeing as you have no food, and there’s no food to be found through scavenging anymore while keeping in mind that it’s far more than a two weeks walk to Georgia. Of course, this is all assuming that the gangs or soldiers don’t get you first because you’re unarmed.”

“Look, I know it’s impossible, but they’re my family. Is there anything you wouldn’t do for your family?”

McCoy was looking at him, wide hazel eyes searching his own as he waited for an answer. Jim didn’t give him one, that whole story was too deep and complicated for a stranger. Instead, he rose from his seat silently and left the living area to walk to the storeroom. It might not have been a smart idea leaving McCoy alone and free, but Jim didn’t think he’d have the balls to try and steal something or try to hurt Jim. 

He shut the door of the storeroom behind him and turned to look at the shelves of food he’d collected. Nearly the entirety of it were canned goods, and not very nice canned goods at that. His eyes wandered to the small corner where he kept a few special things to himself. The box of macaroni and cheese caught his attention, and Jim licked his lips just at the thought. He’d found it over a year ago, and stored it away for either a rainy day or a good day. Today was neither, and by all rights, he should forget about it. Many survivors would say that McCoy didn’t deserve to share his food at all, let alone share in the foods kept as a treat, but he’d looked so damned terrified and Jim couldn’t stop himself from feeling sorry for him. His own life had been miserable, full of fear and hunger, but at least he’d grown up this way. Learned the survival skills from a young age, knew what to do and when. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to go from one extreme to the other in a blink of an eye. 

People had always told him that his heart was too soft.

Sighing, Jim grabbed the box and headed back out. McCoy hadn’t moved a muscle, but Jim noticed his gaze drop to the food in Jim’s arms. There was decent sized kitchen attached to the room, which made Jim think that it used to be a cafeteria of some kind. There was no electricity, so most of the appliances didn’t work, but it was well supplied with utensils, and he had least had some running water that was clean. Jim filled a pot with some of the water and carried it out so his makeshift fire, setting it onto a hook above the flames.

McCoy was still watching him, and Jim was waiting for him to speak, to ask if he could share or if Jim had anything else spare, but he said nothing. Just continued to follow him with his eyes silently as Jim cooked the pasta. Jim wondered if McCoy was waiting for Jim to offer, or was just going to sit silently whilst Jim ate in front of him.

“There are dishes opposite the sink and to the left; get two plates and some cutlery, and put them on the table” he ordered, looking over his shoulder as McCoy started, looking at him confused for a moment, before seeing that Jim was being serious.

“Really?” He asked softly.

“Wouldn’t have said two otherwise, would I?”

“Guess not. Thank you,” McCoy whispered, quickly getting up. Jim listened to him rummage about, then to the clinking as McCoy found the items he needed and proceeded to follow Jim’s instructions. Jim waited until he was back at the table to take the cooked pasta off the fire, and went to drain it. He knew the instructions usually said to add milk or butter, but that was a luxury he didn’t have, so he could only add a splash of fresh water to the pan to stir the sauce in with.

Jim split the food in two once he was at the table again, and pushed one plate towards McCoy.

“Thank you,” the other whispered again. Jim simply nodded and sat with his own meal. He half expected a complaint about how it didn’t taste as good with no milk or butter, but all McCoy did was scoop up a large mouthful, and groan happily as he ate it.

“Try to eat a bit slower. It can help trick you into thinking you’re fuller.”

“Does that work?”

Jim shrugged, “Sometimes. Though I think most of us are beyond the aid of a trick.”

McCoy chewed thoughtfully, “When was the last time you were full? Contentedly full?”

Jim looked down at his forkful of pasta and shook his head. “I can’t ever remember being full at all. This is the most I’ve allowed myself to eat in…a very long time, and it still feels like I’m trying to fill a black hole.” On his peripheral vision, Jim caught McCoy look from his own plate over to Jim’s. “I don’t need your pity. Eat.”

They fell into silence as they ate, each just enjoying their own meal. It was the best food Jim had eaten in years probably, yet even though the raw hunger pains had diminished, they still lurked around, never completely gone from mind. McCoy seemed far more content, however, leaning back in his seat with a satisfied sigh once he’d licked the plate clean. He looked over at Jim and offered a small smile, which Jim found himself returning. It had been awhile since he’d last had company, and even if he was still unsure of McCoy, it was still nice not to be alone.

Their peaceful silence was broken by a chorus of eerie howls in the distance that had McCoy jumping out of his skin. “Are those wolves? I thought they went extinct in the cull?”

“They did. Those aren’t wolf howls.” Jim cocked his head as he listened, just about suppressing the shiver that ran down his spine. “It’s one of the gangs.”

McCoy swallowed thickly, “Are we safe here?”

“Yeah. That’s the closest they ever get. There’s barely anything out here, so it’s not worth their time.” Jim looked over at McCoy who was still twitchy. “C’mon, you can help me clean up. Go fill another pot of water and stick it to heat up so we can wash the dishes.”

McCoy nodded, rising and doing as he was told. “I still don’t know your name.”

Jim glanced over at him as he gathered up their used plates. “It’s Jim.”

“Jim,” McCoy repeated.

Jim chewed his lip a moment before gesturing. “There’s a storeroom through that door, it’s where I keep my food. On the top shelf, you’ll see a row of canned fruit. Pick something and we’ll split it for dessert.”

McCoy looked over to the door, then back to Jim with a raised eyebrow. Jim shrugged again, “Don’t have guests over every day, might as well push the boat out,” he quipped.

McCoy huffed a laugh, and slipped past Jim towards the storeroom, while Jim finished up washing their earlier dishes. A couple of minutes later he reappeared. “You’re Jim Kirk.” It was no question.

Jim spun around to look at McCoy. “How’d you know that?”

“Everyone in Georgia knows about you. You’re the guy who’s been hijacking all those food trucks along the import/export routes. Four in the last year. All the food you have, it dropped everything into place.”

Jim shifted his weight, his stance, bracing himself in case McCoy tried to attack. He motioned to the can McCoy was clutching. “Didn’t stop you from still helping yourself though, I see.”

McCoy looked down, then up again. “I didn’t say I disapproved. It came as a shock, that’s all. I expected you to be different.”

Jim scowled, “How so?”

“After all the food you’ve taken, I thought, I expected you to be…” McCoy made a sweeping motion of Jim’s body with his free arm. “Less thin, malnourished.”

“You didn’t think I ate it all myself did you?”

“That’s what they told us.”

Jim scoffed, “Well I don’t. It gets divided amongst myself and some others, then we hand them out to people across our individual states,” Jim explained. “There are still a number of families out there, people with young children desperate for substantial food. They either get it from me, or they get it from the gangs, and like I said earlier, food from them comes from extremely questionable sources.”

McCoy nodded slowly. “That’s the exact opposite of what we’ve been led to believe. They told us you were selfish, hoarded it all to yourself.” Jim stayed still, watching Leonard closely as he waited for what he was going to say next. “You do good.”

Jim knew McCoy’s words shouldn’t have had an effect on him, he was a stranger after all, but they did. It was only three simple words, but it was the first time in his life that he’d heard them. “I know,” he said, turning away from McCoy lest the other see the prickle of tears that threatened to fall. He stalked back into the main area, and sat in front of the fire, leaving McCoy to trail behind him with the can and two bowls.

McCoy sat next to him, opening the can and splitting the strawberries between them before passing Jim a bowl. “Why do it though? Why risk yourself like that?”

“Someone has to. Someone has to look out for the people who are left. If I can ease one person’s suffering then it’s worth it.” Jim bit into a strawberry, chewing it thoughtfully. “And I’d rather risk myself than anyone else.”

“Why? Why is your life worthless?”

“Because I don’t have anyone. I have the people I organize things with, and we’re friends, but it’s not the same. I don’t have any family, no one that really cares about me.”

He could feel McCoy looking at him, but kept his gaze set steadily on the dancing flames in front of him. He’d told no lie to McCoy. He was on his own. The others he worked with mostly stayed together. Sure, they’d travel to give out food, but they always returned to the same location. Jim was out here on his own. It was safer that way. If something went wrong then it’d mean that only Jim would get hurt. As they sat in silence he began to wonder if there was something else he could do to help. Again, it could only be him, but that was fine. He knew that if he was determined enough he could succeed. It may not change everything, but it could change something.

Jim glanced over at McCoy steeling himself in his decision. “I’ll help you.”

McCoy’s head snapped up. “What?”

“I’ll help you. I’ll help you find your family.”


	2. Chapter 2

It took them a day to get everything organized, but at dawn on the second day after Jim had found McCoy, the two of them set off. Jim bolted the doors shut behind them, and pocketed the key, only taking one last glance up at the building that had been his home for the last few years, before turning away. It was just a hunk of metal, there really should be nothing to miss, but a sense of finality came with locking the door. In his heart, Jim knew it was doubtful he’d ever return from this mission. **  
**

McCoy was watching him as if he knew, “You okay?”

Jim gave a brief nod, “Fine. Let’s go,” he muttered, shouldering his backpack and setting off in front of McCoy. He glanced over his shoulder to see McCoy doing the same. “You remember the rules?”

“Keep talking to a minimum, especially when going through cities. Keep to the shadows, stay behind you, and do what you say without question.” McCoy repeated from just behind him.

“Good.” McCoy had complained when Jim had first told him his rules, thinking that he was being treated differently because of where he’d come from. In truth, Jim had given him the same rules he’d given anyone he’d ever traveled with; it was the best way to keep everyone safe, and the rules had never failed him so far. The only difference with this journey was that Jim hadn’t trusted him with a gun. He was still nowhere near ready to put his trust in McCoy, which completely ruled out the possibility of handing him a loaded gun. Or even knife.

Jim adjusted his grip on his own gun, one of the ones he’d stolen from a soldier, and led the way. They were able to travel along the outskirts of the city luckily, drastically diminishing their chances of running into soldiers. He doubted very much they’d avoid them completely over the month-long foot journey to Georgia, but the longer they could, the better. They walked in silence all morning, Jim refusing to let them stop or take a break under the noon sun. There’d be none of that until sunset when they’d be forced to find a place to hide for the night.

He looked over at McCoy as the sun slowly began to sink in the sky. The other man hadn’t complained all day, and Jim had to admit that he was impressed by that. He’d expected a lot of whining. “We need to find somewhere to stay overnight,” he said quietly, “There should be a small building along this bank here we can use. “

“Will it be safe?”

“As safe as it can be.” Jim led the way, and sure enough a few minutes later a small shack came into view. It was a rundown thing, but it was intact, and it’d do them for the night.

“Looks cozy,” McCoy muttered behind him as they walked up to it.

Jim raised his weapon as they approached slowly, finger on the trigger as he looked for even the smallest amount of movement. There appeared to be nothing though. He motioned for McCoy to stay where he was, and carefully came up on the door. Keeping the gun aimed, Jim pushed the door open, quickly scanning the one-room interior. Empty. “Get in,” he told McCoy, waiting for the other to get in, before entering too and closing the door again. He set his things on the floor and tapped along the wooden floorboards until one squeaked more than the others. Jim prised it open and plucked out the key than lay beneath. “We have places like this scattered throughout. Sort of safe houses. We won’t be lucky enough to stay in one each night, but I’ll try and get us to them when I can,” he explained, locking the door.

The shack had no windows so Jim was able to set up a small fire for them to sit around. He dug around in his pack and pulled out one of the small ration packs, and passed it over to McCoy. McCoy grimaced at the plain, dry crackers, but said nothing as he slowly ate them. “You’re not eating?” He asked when he noticed that Jim was just staring into the fire.

“Not hungry.” McCoy raised an eyebrow. Jim sighed. “I’m used to running on empty. You’re not, and I don’t need you getting weak and slowing me down.”

McCoy made a face, like he was far from happy at Jim’s explanation, but didn’t protest further, and just sat quietly as he munched the food. “So you ever going to tell me the full plan?”

Jim broke his gaze away from the dancing flames and looked up. “What do you mean?”

“The route we’re taking. You haven’t told me.”

“Right.” Jim thought for a few more minutes. “We’re taking the most direct route there. There aren’t any safe paths, so it’s pointless wasting time. We need to make a stop in Phoenix first though. There are people there I need to speak with.”

“The people are part of your group?”

“Yeah. They’re good people; the ones in charge of distributing the food I collect.”

McCoy was silent for a few moments as he picked at the crumbs in the pack. “Why don’t you live with them? If you’re a group, surely it would make sense for you to all work from one unit?”

Jim shook his head, picking at the sleeves of his worn leather jacket, “It’s too dangerous. Until I told you, you had no idea that there were others involved, and that’s the way I like it. This way, if I ever get caught, I’m the only one in danger.”

“It must get lonely though; being on your own.”

“I survive. I always survive.” Jim stood abruptly, not liking where this conversation was going. “There’s a space over there where you can sleep. I’ll keep watch.”

McCoy looked started at the sudden change. “One day you’re going to have to trust me enough to let me watch while you sleep.”

Jim said nothing, simply settling himself against the wall opposite the door, gun settled between his legs. He felt McCoy’s eyes on him for a long while afterward, but neither of them said a word, and Jim didn’t look over. He didn’t need some rich bastard telling him how he should feel. What did he know anyway? Nothing! Jim was fine on his own. He’d spent most of his life on his own. He didn’t need anyone.

~

“Jim, are you sure this is the quickest way? We’ve been on the road five days already,” McCoy complained as they trudged along the deserted highway.

Jim rolled his eyes and resisted the temptation to just jump off the road and run. “Yes, I’m sure. You think I want to be out here?”

McCoy sighed audibly, “And how far is it exactly to Phoenix?”

“Another five days give or take.”

McCoy sighed again, continuing to bitch as they walked under the beating hot sun. Jim missed when he’d been silent.

They walked along for another hour, McCoy continuing his grumbling under his breath. Jim bit his tongue, for the most part, settling to just roll his eyes some more whenever McCoy got too fussy. But as they moved along, Jim caught the sound of something in the distance. “Shut up,” he snapped.

“I don’t care who you think you are, you can’t talk to me like-”

“Quiet!”

McCoy froze and fell silent, allowing Jim to listen. There was a rumbling in the distance that was steadily getting closer. Shit.

“Move!” He hissed, turning and grabbing McCoy’s arm. “Car!” He ran, dragging the other man with him and pushed them both down into the undergrowth just as the engine rumbled right by them.

Jim held a finger to his lips as the vehicle came to a stop. The driver must have caught a glimpse of them as they approached. McCoy was lying opposite him, eyes wide as they heard the door open, and feet hit the gravel. Jim listened intently to the footsteps, as they walked along the edge of the road opposite them, then approach their side. They came to a stop right above their heads, the shadow falling over them.

“Come out! I know you’re out there!” The soldier shouted, arming his weapon.

Jim closed his eyes, taking a breath. He’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this. Opening his eyes again, he mouthed for McCoy to stay still, while slowly pulling his own gun free. Another breath and he launched himself up. He caught the soldier by surprise, knocking into him hard and sending him staggering. The soldier must have been new because just Jim hitting him sent his gun flying from his hand. Jim used the moment to swing another punch. The soldier fell to the ground, helmet tumbling off to one side.

Jim stood above the man, panting heavily as he watched the other scramble to his knees, hands in the air. “Please…please don’t kill me,” the man, no, the kid, pleaded, staring up at Jim with wide eyes. He couldn’t have been more than eighteen. Had probably been forced to enlist just a few months ago. Jim kept his gun aimed at the kid, but moved quickly, using the weapon to hit the kid hard across the head, watching him slump to the ground. Jim bent down, checking the pulse, before straightening again.

“You can come out now!” He shouted for McCoy, then busied himself with scavenging whatever he could from the vehicle. Some ammo, a few extra ration packs, and a first aid kit. Not a bad scoop. “We have to get out of here before he wakes up.” He turned to see McCoy stooped over the kid, examining him closely. Ever the Doctor it seemed. “He’ll be fine in a couple hours. Nothing but a headache and a wounded pride. C’mon.”

McCoy looked up at him rather startled but said nothing as he quickly scrambled to sling his own pack on his back and started following Jim again. He remained silent for most of the rest of the day, something Jim would’ve been glad of before, but now it set him on edge. There was a tension between them, something new that hadn’t been there before. He didn’t like it.

“Spit it out,” he snapped, not even bothering to look behind him.

“What?”

“Whatever’s eating at you. Spit it out. I’ve got enough problems; don’t need you being all antsy on me too.”

McCoy stayed silent for a few minutes more. Jim was starting to get irritated when he spoke. “Why didn’t you kill him?”

Jim frowned to himself, “Who? That kid? Why would I kill him?”

“Because that’s what you do.”

Jim stopped dead in his tracks and spun to face McCoy. “Excuse me?”

“Woah,” McCoy skidded to a halt, palms raised towards Jim. “I’m not judging you. But it is kinda what you do.”

“And how the hell would know that, McCoy?! You don’t know jackshit about me!” Jim’s voice raised, more than was probably wise.

McCoy lowered his hands, frowning at Jim. “I’ve seen the bodies.”

“What bodies?” Jim asked, his face scrunching up in confusion. McCoy was making him sound like some mass murderer.

“What bodies? The drivers of all those food trucks you ambushed. The guards sent to protect them. Whenever you hijack something a string of bodies shows up behind you.”

Jim began to answer then stopped again. He didn’t know what to say. McCoy thought that? Did everyone else think that too? That he’d so willingly kill?

“The soldiers I understand, but the drivers? They’re just ordinary people, they aren’t like the big shots in Georgia. They’re just trying to support their families,” McCoy continued before Jim could even think of anything to say. “Couldn't…couldn’t you have subdued them?”

Jim knew that. Of course, he knew that. He didn’t really understand why, but it hurt that he was being made out to be some kind of monster. “I never killed anyone during those missions,” he said quietly.

“I was brought in to sign the certificates a few of the times, Jim. I saw them shot up.”

“I don’t know how that happened, but I’m telling you that I never killed anyone on those runs, not even a soldier. I’d create a distraction on the road then use a gas one of the people I work with developed. It’s potent but not lethal. Just knocked everyone out for a few hours. I’d get in, get the food and get out again before anyone woke up.” Jim turned on his heel as he finished speaking and stormed on ahead, letting McCoys race to keep up with his speed. He didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Let McCoy believe what he wanted. Why should he care anyway? Why should he give a damn about a stranger? Or whatever lies were being spread about him? Let them all believe he was hoarding, ruthless murderer.

Jim led the way to another safe house, the first one they’d been in since their first night on the road, and their last before they reached Phoenix. Once they were out of there…they’d be lucky if their path crossed one more. So might as well make the most of this one. He checked the windows were boarded before lighting them a small fire. Sitting in front of it, Jim passed McCoy a ration pack and took one for himself. They’d be able to replenish soon so he could indulge himself.

A few minutes into their tense meal, McCoy looked over at him. “I believe you.”

Jim looked up in turn, “About what?” He asked.

“You said you didn’t kill those men and I believe you.”

“Why? You’ve known me less than a week.”

McCoy shrugged, “I’ve been around liars for most of my life, and I think you’re the most honest person I’ve met. You say what you think, no hidden agendas.”

Jim looked down at his lap, turning a piece of cracker over between his fingers as he wished McCoy hadn’t said that. “Twenty-three.”

“Twenty-three?”

“I’ve killed twenty-three people; I know you were still wondering. One for each year I’ve been alive,” Jim laughed mirthlessly. “I only kill when it’s life or death.”

“Yet you killed to save me. Your life wasn’t in danger.”

“But yours was. I saw someone in trouble, and I acted. I would’ve done it for anyone.”

“Would you have done the same if you’d known who I was?” McCoy asked.

Jim opened his mouth then closed it again. He’d never even considered that. What would he have done? “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I want to say yes, that I’d save anyone from the soldiers, but honestly? I have no idea. Your people have been the cause of so much pain for us…” Jim looked back down at his lap. “Does that make me a bad person?”

“No. It makes you honest,” McCoy replied. “I haven’t seen much of what it’s like out here, but I’ve seen enough. I’d probably do the same if I were in your boots.”

Jim nodded, setting his ration pack to one side. “You said earlier you didn’t judge me even though you thought I’d killed what? A hundred people maybe?”

“I’ve done my own share of bad things. The worst being letting my fear cloud my judgment and running to leave Ma and Joanna alone.”

“That can’t be compared to killing without remorse.”

“To me, it’s worse. Despite what you think, there are people in Georgia capable of love. Ma and Jo are two of those people. And life there is complicated, but Ma made sure my childhood was good, and Jo…she’s the light of my life. If anything has happened to either of them…” McCoy sighed, brushing a hand over his eyes. Jim pretended not to hear the sniff. “I have to get back to them.”

“You will. I’ll get you there.” It was an empty promise, there was no way to know for certain that their journey would be successful, and he was sure McCoy knew that, but it still earned him a small smile. “Tell me about them?”

McCoy hesitated for a moment, but then began to talk. Jim listened as McCoy told him tales from his childhood; of the games he and his mother used to play. The way she supported him with all his decisions and the unconditional love she showed him. Then he spoke of Joanna, explaining how his whole world changed the moment she was born, how he loved her more than anything. A light appeared in his eyes when he spoke of her making them twinkle in a way Jim hadn’t seen before. Somewhere deep inside him, someplace he always ignored, Jim felt a twinge of affection for the other man. Something he’d never felt before. It was strange but pleasant. Jim squashed the feeling down and ignored it. It was impossible for anything to come of it.

McCoy spoke for some time, and when he finally stopped, he looked at Jim again. “What about you? You must have some family.”

Jim shook his head, snapping himself out of his daze. “Nah, not really.”

“What about parents?” McCoy prodded.

“You don’t need my sob story.”

“I’ve put my burdens on you.”

Jim sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “There’s not much to say. My Dad…he was a good man. He helped people whenever he could. To the point where it killed him.”  Jim glanced up from picking at his sleeve long enough to see McCoy watching him with a sad frown. “Just as my Mom went into labor with me, their hideout was attacked. My Dad sacrificed himself so we could get out.”

“I’m so sorry, Jim,” McCoy whispered.

“I don’t think my Mom ever forgive me.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“I was the reason he stayed behind instead of running. If it weren’t for me he would’ve gone with her,” Jim sighed, watching the fire dance between them. “Growing up, every time she looked at me it was like she was weighing me up against him and constantly found she was sold short. I was never good enough for her.”

“That’s why you do what you do now. You’re trying to live up to him.”

“I guess, yeah.” Jim smiled sadly, taking a deep breath. Just thinking about it all left him exhausted. “You should get some rest.”

“Why don’t I take watch tonight? You haven’t slept since we left. Don’t want you passing out on me,” McCoy suggested watching Jim with concern.

Jim bit his lip, glancing from McCoy to the one makeshift bed. He was tired and it would be nice to sleep. They were in a mostly safe spot too. There was a chance of McCoy turning on him, but somehow Jim didn’t think that would happen. Decision made, Jim stood walking around the fire to McCoy. “Wake me if anything’s wrong,” he said, squeezing the other’s shoulder as he passed by. McCoy just nodded, watching Jim from the corner of his eye as he settled onto the blankets. They felt like heaven compared to the last few nights.

Jim stretched out on his side facing McCoy and closed his eyes.

“Goodnight, Jim,” McCoy whispered.

“Goodnight, Leonard.”


End file.
